Willingness

Irony is rarely lost on me.Last week I wrote about transitions and how to make them gracefully, and then I promptly transitioned back into my life in Texas with a bump, thud, skid, faceplant. First I returned home to 102 degree temperatures and two broken AC units. I spent the first night in and out of a cold shower, "sleeping" sopping wet on top of my covers. I got my kids back the following afternoon, which was divine. I packed a picnic to take to the pool and forgot to shut the back hatch on my car, and proceeded to back out, catching the hatch on the top of the garage door. That was an expensive mistake. But the kids got to eat their picnic in the body shop waiting room, with cold AC and soap operas on tv. I joked about being prepared with my picnic, which yielded three sets of rolling eyes. Now I'm driving a rent car and the kids think it's awesome because the seats aren't leather so our thighs don't burn off. They always manage to see the bright side.And there have been bright spots. I should report those too, lest you think I have misplaced my gratitude. I survived two morning workouts in the heat with Paige and Katie and their new training group, Gilbert's Gazelles - one 8 mile pace run and one 8 mile fartlek workout. I was certain I was going to fall off the back and melt into a pool sweat and disappointment, but I hung in there. Not easy when your watch is still on California time and says 3:30 am when you start out. It actually feels pretty good to sweat profusely again - clean.Speaking of sweating, Luke started football the day the kids returned - two and a half hour practices every evening. I wish you could have been there with me the first day of practice. Luke was so nervous that he was silent on the drive over. They had weigh in and photos and Coach Cary gave a brief talk to the parents gathered in the shade under a tree. If you are unfamiliar with Texas, this would have been the best initiation. Next to longneck beers and cowboy hats, the most important symbol of Texas pride is football. And Luke is one lucky kid to have Coach Cary. His opening speech went something like this (paraphrasing him, not doing him justice, and you will have to add your own southern accent):"Boys, I'm not sure what you've played in the past, but this is Football. You will work hard. Harder than you have ever worked before. This is a violent sport (Grace turned around here, 'Mom, you okay?') and you will learn how to hit, HARD, and correctly. I won't be happy until someone pukes at practice. We are all on the same team, but if you aren't good, you will not play. You can dress and sit on the bench and be part of things, but you will not touch the ball. Is that understood?"YES SIR! (they scream in unison, like cadets) Not long ago Luke was sheltered in a coddled, cushioned world in suburban childhood where everyone got to play, everyone was awesome, and everyone got a trophy. This resembled the real world about as much as midnight looks like high noon. I guess it's time to be honest about the fact that there is only one first place, only one winning team, and people are gifted in different ways. There is something liberating about being real; being bold and blunt enough to say "If you want something - work for it.""Now, get out of the shade and go run." They take off like he just offered free ice cream, an XBox, and a golden retriever puppy.I have never seen anything like it. It was like peeking into a man's world through a crack in a fence and seeing my son on the other side. When he got back into my car after practice, beet red and soaked with sweat, he had a giant grin on his face. In between guzzles of water he managed to croak, "Mom, it was awwwwwesome." He is dressed and ready to go thirty minutes early every day, asking me when practice starts, making sure we won't be late.Luke doesn't realize it, and neither does Coach Cary, but their hard work is motivating me. When I see Luke exhausted and happy, I don't feel like complaining about the heat. When I see him make good choices about food and hydration, I want to do likewise. When I see those boys running sprints and doing drills, I file the image away for motivation in my own workouts. They want to see what they are made of, and it makes me curious about myself as well. They won't give up, so I won't either. We have a quiet camaraderie, Luke and I, with football conditioning and marathon training in the depth of summer. I can see the understanding of "potential for greatness" awakening in my son, and his response is willingness - and that is a beautiful thing.

A Part of Hearst Digital Media
Runner's World participates in various affiliate marketing programs, which means we may get paid commissions on editorially chosen products purchased through our links to retailer sites.